


A Lifetime of Love

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: 5+1 Things, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: Wedge Antilles; Luke Skywalker; pilots, brothers-in-arms, best friends. They took down the first Death Star together, they founded Rogue Squadron, and rose to the elite ranks of the Rebellion. Together. Always having the other’s back.Somewhere along the way, they fell in love.(Essentially: five times Wedge and Luke had sex, and one time they just went to bed together.)





	A Lifetime of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karyatid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karyatid/gifts).



> All of your prompts were so excellent, karyatid, but especially the Wedge/Luke ones that I couldn’t pick between them and ended up smashing pretty much all of your Wedge/Luke ideas into one fic… so I hope you enjoy??

The party that is happening in the hanger is nowhere near as raucous as it could be. They’re celebrating the destruction of the Death Star, but they’ve lost so much and so many at the same time. Still, it’s louder than Wedge wants. He understands the need to celebrate the fact that they’re alive, but… there’s an ache in his chest that _hurts_ with loss right now, and it gets _worse_ every time he hears a friendly laugh and a companionable shout.

He got lucky in the immediate aftermath and managed to pull his X-Wing into a quiet corner of the hangar, the opposite end to the Falcon and Luke – everyone had congregated around the boy and the smuggler – and Wedge had almost managed to slip away unnoticed. But he’d been spotted by Chopper, who’d called for Hera Syndulla, and she’d come running, and refused to let Wedge slink off on his own.

Wedge was glad to have her. Hera held him tight and let him weep on her shoulder, muttered sweet reassuring nothings in his ear as Wedge tried to put his world back to rights again. As soon as he’d been on firmer ground, Hera had broken another blow to him.

He’s not going back to Phoenix Squadron, the rebel cell Hera still commands, that Wedge has been a part of since before the Alliance was formed. He’s been reassigned to Red Squadron. Unofficially, he’s only there to babysit their newest recruit, Luke Skywalker. Command are still unsure of how much of the story he is telling is true. So Wedge is to keep him safe until they straighten things out.

Along the outskirts of the party, Wedge searches for a golden-haired ball of sunshine who’d succeeded where pilots older and wiser than him had failed. He spots him, sitting on top of a crate, clutching a bottle of – Wedge can’t make it out at this distance, but he thinks it's whiskey, Corellian in origin – and laughing at something Solo, the smuggler, just said. His face is radiant and Wedge feels something flip in his chest.

“Antilles!” Luke’s voice is as bright as his smile. It makes Wedge stop dead in his tracks. “Wedge,” Luke tests out his first name, beckoning Wedge over with an open hand. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m—” Wedge closes his mouth before he can say the word fine. He’s _not_ fine, by any stretch of the imagination, and to say so would be completely disingenuous. “Actually, you feel like sharing?” Wedge nods his head at the bottle in Luke’s hands. He’s too sober for this right now.

“Take a swig,” Luke offers. Wedge does so. It’s not Whyren’s, but it’s something close and not half bad, and certainly a lot better than the swill that’s made in a still that High Command are not supposed to know about.

“Luke.” Solo claps Luke on the shoulder. He’s a tall man, with typical Corellian swagger, and Wedge wilts a little. He’s never going to be a man like that. “You’ll be okay, right? I’m gonna check on her worship.”

Luke nods, and Solo wanders off. “Her worship?” Wedge cocks his head at Luke. He takes another swig from the bottle, offering it back.

“The Princess. Leia,” Luke elaborates. “Han doesn’t seem to like her, which probably means he adores her but doesn’t want her to know.”

Solo? and Princess Leia. Wedge resists the urge to laugh; it’s not appropriate for the moment. Leia has a habit of pulling everyone around her into her orbit. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Solo found himself off course and caught in it.

The fact that Luke has noticed tells Wedge that the innocent farmboy, fresh off the boat vibe that Luke gives off might not be entirely accurate; he’s smarter than he lets on. Not just as a pilot; but he’s just enough world-wise that Wedge doesn’t need to watch him quite as closely as he first thought.

“He’ll have a hard time winning her over,” Wedge says. “The Princess doesn’t let many people into her circle. Or so I hear,” Wedge amends, because the truth is that he’s been with the Rebellion for a while now and has been in the vicinity of Leia Organa once – twice at an absolute push, he guesses – and all he has is the gossip.

Luke looks curious. He takes the bottle back from Wedge, taking a swig – his lips are a little flush around the neck of the bottle and Wedge averts his eyes quickly, because _that_ is a distraction he does not need. “Tell me,” Luke says, leaning perilously close in Wedge’s space. “What do they say about her?”

Over the next hour, Wedge spills every bit of Rebellion gossip he can think of that doesn’t compromise security in some shape or form to Luke, who stays steadily by his side throughout all of it. By some miracle, everyone else at the party skirts them, leaving the two survivors of the Battle of Yavin to their confidence. Luke laps it up, eager for information about the world he’s found himself dropped in.

Wedge keeps glancing at the lightsaber that hangs on Luke’s belt and hopes he’s not being obvious about it. He’s… he doesn’t know _anything_ , really, about that life, and the little he does… well, he’s under orders not to tell it.

“Wedge?”

Wedge’s attention is brought back to Luke, who’s about three inches from Wedge’s face, for reasons unknown to Wedge. His voice is cautious and enquiring, and Wedge’s eyes are drawn to half-lidded eyes and long, dark lashes. “I think I’m tired of this.” Luke gestures limply at the ongoing crowds, that feel miles away from their intimate conversation in the corner.

“Not like we’re really participating.” Wedge shrugs. “We can go elsewhere?”

“You got something resembling a bed?”

Wedge feels his heart race a little, a flush coming to his cheeks – he can blame it on the alcohol, though. But Luke doesn’t mean it that way – or at least, Wedge doesn’t _think_ he does. “Got quarters. And bunks going spare. That good enough for you?”

Neither of them talk about _why_ there are spare bunks. There are far too many of those in the pilots’ barracks currently. “Yep.” Luke smiles that sunny grin again, the one that Wedge is starting to suspect could light up an entire sky. He holds out the bottle they’ve been sharing. “You want the last of it?”

“No, you have it.” Wedge _really_ doesn’t need any more alcohol in his system. He’s already fuzzier than he’d like; watching Luke neck the last of the whiskey _does not help_ , and Wedge has now lost the ability to tell if Luke’s doing things intentionally, or if Wedge is just reading _far too much_ into the situation.

Wedge leads Luke to his quarters without incident, remaining steady on his feet. Once they’re in, Wedge removes his jacket and tosses it on his own bunk, leaving Luke free to claim one of the others. He slips away into the refresher, to splash some cold water on his face, in hopes that it’ll make everything make _sense_ somehow.

(It doesn’t, but he feels a little more sober for doing it.)

He returns, and Luke is sitting on the lower bunk opposite Wedge’s, swinging his legs, looking nervous. “Do you want something to sleep in?” Wedge notes that Luke is still in his flightsuit, and hasn’t even made any move to unfasten the damn thing.

“Hmm?” Luke is distracted. “Oh, yeah, sure. If you wouldn’t mind.”

Wedge, thankfully, has a second set of clean sleep things in his footlocker. He bundles them up and tosses them at Luke, then turns his back, and focuses on getting changed himself. This is the military; Wedge has long since stopped caring who sees him. If Luke wants to look, let him. But Wedge will give Luke his privacy.

Things all sorted, Wedge slides into his bunk. “Do you need the light on?” he asks.

“No,” Luke responds. He looks small in the other bunk. Wedge flicks the light switch, sending them both into darkness, and quiet. Wedge rolls onto his side and tries to sleep.

It doesn’t really work.

“Wedge?” Luke’s voice echoes across the small bunk room. “Can I—?”

Wedge recognises the question without it even being asked. “Get over here,” he says, lifting up the corner of his covers. A moment later soft footsteps sound across the narrow space between beds, followed by a warm weight slipping into Wedge’s bunk.

Luke Skywalker curls into Wedge, who shifts to make space for him in the bunk not designed for two. Wedge’s nose brushes soft blonde hair, as Luke tucks his head against Wedge’s shoulder. “Thanks.” Luke wraps his arms around Wedge’s waist, bringing himself close, his entire body lying flush with Wedge’s.

“I’ve been there,” Wedge says. One of his hands is lying over Luke’s waist, and Wedge rubs soft circles into the hollow with his thumb. Luke is warm, hot; every place his skin comes into contact with Wedge’s is alight enough that it feels like he’s burning.

Luke shifts against Wedge, his lips brushing against the skin that’s exposed by the collar of Wedge’s shirt. Wedge sucks in a breath; this was a _bad_ idea, he’s drunk too much to have Luke in his bed. “I just don’t want to be alone.” Luke murmurs the words in a soft tone, and Wedge isn’t sure he’s even aware what he’s saying.

“You aren’t,” Wedge reminds him. He pulls away, attempting to lie flat on his back, so he can turn his head away from Luke, before he does something _incredibly_ stupid. There isn’t space for it. Luke is still curled tight to Wedge’s side.

Wedge closes his eyes. _Sleep_ , he reminds himself, that’s what he was supposed to be achieving. Luke’s trying to settle by his side, hands skimming over Wedge’s waist, and Wedge is discovering that Luke is a fidget. Then Luke pushes up, propping his head on a bent elbow. “Wedge?” he asks, voice low. Wedge gives it a moment, but Luke repeats his name, so Wedge turns his head back to Luke, coming face to face with soft blue eyes and flushed red lips, and… Wedge’s self control is being _sorely_ tested this evening.

He’s known Luke for barely hours. He’s drunk; so is Luke. They’re both still dealing with the effects of the battle.

Kissing this boy is _top_ of the list of bad ideas Wedge has had in his life.

Luke doesn’t say anything, once he’s got Wedge’s attention. But he does get closer. He brings one of his legs over Wedge’s, and one of his hands roams across Wedge’s chest, sliding down until it slips below Wedge’s shirt and into contact with Wedge’s skin. And throughout all of this he never once takes his gaze off Wedge. Wedge can feel heat pooling in his groin, his cock slowly stiffening because this is _teasing_ , and _deliberate._ “Luke,” he pants, finally breaking the silence that’s stretched between them. “What—”

Luke kisses him. He pins Wedge to the bed as he does so, his weight against Wedge’s hips, as he presses his mouth against Wedge’s, sucking at Wedge’s bottom lip. Wedge goes with it, winding his fingers in Luke’s soft hair, tugging lightly as he groans as Luke’s hips buck against his. “I really don’t want to be alone,” Luke says, breaking the kiss to look down at Wedge.

“Okay.” Wedge swallows. He stifles his concerns by kissing Luke again, licking into his mouth to taste the sweetness that he’d only caught a sliver of before. Luke tastes how sunshine would do, Wedge is sure of it, pure and radiant. The taste makes his head spin, and he wonders if he could lose himself in the soft warmth of Luke’s mouth.

Luke’s fingers catch at the edge of Wedge’s shirt, pushing it upwards. He breaks the kiss to pull it over Wedge’s head, tossing it aside, then goes back to kissing Wedge, dragging his mouth across the edge of Wedge’s jaw in a way that makes Wedge throw his head back as Luke nips at a spot beneath his ear.

Wedge’s hand slips into Luke’s shorts. He grips Luke’s cock, feeling the weight of it against his fingers, the warmth and the way it pulses in his hand. He moves his hand up and down, experimenting with what Luke likes. Luke groans, his back arching, and he rests his head against Wedge’s shoulder, attempting to suck a bruise above Wedge’s collarbone. His hands wander down Wedge’s sides, stopping at the edge of Wedge’s underwear, but he wastes no time in pulling that down too, and getting his hands on Wedge’s dick.

“Fuck, Luke—” Wedge moans as Luke strokes him quick, fast, and not nearly _hard_ enough. He can’t help but thrust up in Luke’s grasp, already worryingly close, and heady with everything. Meanwhile, Luke’s breath is coming in quick short pants; Wedge isn’t the only one slowly losing control.

Wedge manages to line himself up with Luke, and after an uncoordinated attempt where he and Luke bash hands together because they’re so fixated on getting each other off, takes both himself and Luke into a grip, letting Luke slowly writhe and thrust against him.

“Wedge—” Luke tangles his fingers in Wedge’s hair, tugging him close and in for a kiss, messy and openmouthed. It’s little more than breathing each other in, as Wedge grips tighter and Luke’s hips buck in response.

Wedge is close: he can feel the heat pooling low in his stomach and the tension building, and he moves his hand faster, chasing his own release, and hoping that Luke is close as well. He’s too far gone to properly read Luke, but the way Luke’s fingers are tightening in Wedge’s hair would suggest so.

Wedge does break first, his orgasm hitting him and turning his vision white for a moment. Luke kisses him hard, swallowing Wedge’s moans, and Wedge keeps pumping his hand, chasing Luke’s release as well. Luke starts to stiffen on top of him, going still, and Wedge is sure he’s—

Luke gives an all body shudder as he comes, quaking against Wedge and going almost boneless as he rides the last wave of his orgasm. Wedge gives him a moment, withdrawing his hand and wiping it off against a far corner of the sheets. “You alright?” Wedge asks, combing a hand through Luke’s now damp hair.

“Yeah,” Luke says, voice soft and sated. He rolls off Wedge, coming to rest back at Wedge’s side. He curls his head against Wedge’s shoulder, and throws an arms over Wedge’s chest. “Thanks.”

Wedge isn’t quite sure what to say to that. Luke has done him a favour, really – not just in the sex, which was fun enough, but the calm that has now washed over him, and the promise of sleep that feels near. “Anytime.”

.

As soon as they’re through the door to their quarters, Luke shoves Wedge roughly up against the wall, gives him a very obvious once over, and then proceeds to kiss Wedge as if he were drowning and Wedge was the only source of air around.

This is hardly a surprise to Wedge. He’d been expecting it ever since Rogue Flight touched back down from its mission to Sullust, both of them high on adrenaline and keyed up. As they’d lined up the squadron for an immediate debrief Luke had been obvious, a hand on Wedge’s arm, standing approximately an inch away from him. All Wedge had wanted to do was push Luke back against an X-Wing – because this was hardly the _first_ time this had happened – but they’d been summoned by high command, and Wedge had itched in his skin throughout the meeting, attempting to fight the feeling that he was on fire every time his skin brushed Luke as they animatedly explained the mission.

After what felt like forever, they were dismissed, and it had taken every ounce of Wedge’s restraint not to push Luke into a crevice as they’d walked back to their quarters. Apparently, Luke hadn’t been fairing much better.

Wedge lifts his hands to tangle in Luke’s soft, golden hair, blunt nails scraping across Luke’s scalp. Luke gasps – just as Wedge had hoped he would – and Wedge runs his tongue across Luke’s bottom lip, and then further into Luke’s mouth, chasing the sweetness he finds there, and sliding his thigh between Luke’s legs.

Luke moans low in his throat, the sound resonating in his chest, making it vibrate enough that Wedge can _feel_ it. Meanwhile, Luke is fumbling desperately at the edges of Wedge’s flak vest and the closings of his flight suit, trying to find a way in.

Wedge would laugh if he wasn’t so busy kissing Luke. They’ve done this enough times that you’d have thought Luke would have worked out an easy way to get into the flight suits, even as keyed up at they _both_ are, but it seems not. Knowing that Luke is distracted, Wedge glides his hands down Luke’s back, loosening the fastening that holds the flak vest tight.

Eventually, Luke has to pull away for air, and Wedge takes his chance, shoving Luke away, pulling the flak vest over his head, and then pushing Luke against the opposite wall. “Hey, no fair!” Luke protests as he finds himself pinned down by Wedge. He pouts, but Wedge is wise to that one – Luke Skywalker is hardly the picture of innocence he pretends to be.

“I wasn’t aware we were playing fair,” Wedge replies with a smirk. With the flak vest gone, it’s a simple matter to open the fastening at Luke’s throat, distract Luke with an open mouth kiss placed beneath his ear, and for Wedge to drag his mouth down the column of Luke’s throat as he unfastens Luke’s belt, letting the ejection straps attached to it swing to the floor. Using both his hands, Wedge pulls the flightsuit off Luke’s shoulders and off his arms. He pushes it down so it drops below Luke’s waist, falling down to pool around Luke’s boots which Wedge hasn’t bothered to unfasten.

Never mind. They aren’t the objective here.

Wedge skims his hands down Luke’s sides, revelling in the firm planes of muscle – like a lot of Starfighter pilots, Luke is lean but still in very fine shape. Luke tilts his head up, exposing his neck, clearly wanting more attention there.

So Wedge does the exact opposite, and drops to his knees, and pulls Luke’s underwear down with a simple well practised tug, and takes Luke’s hard, flush cock into his mouth.

Luke groans, and Wedge can just picture the face he’s making; his eyes clenched shut, lashes fanned across his flushed cheeks; mouth pulled into a tight o shape as he desperately tries to breathe and keep his cool.

Fingers tighten in the hair at the back of Wedge’s neck, Luke’s hands coaxing Wedge into a steady rhythm. Not that Wedge needs much encouraging. The intent here is to get Luke off, and Wedge is pretty confident in his ability to do so, lathing his tongue across the underside of Luke’s cock and hollowing his cheeks as he swallows Luke down, enjoying the way Luke shallowly begins to thrust into his mouth.

Wedge ends up pinning Luke back against the wall, hands on Luke’s hips, his thumbs tracing small circles into the hollows above Luke’s hip bones. “Wedge—” Luke whines, high in his throat, before Wedge manages to cut him off with a flick of his tongue across Luke’s slit. “Kriff,” he mutters, tugging at Wedge’s hair. “Keep doing that.”

Wedge has great pleasure in obliging Luke, listening as Luke’s mutterings grow ever the more nonsensical, his breath catching sharper as he gets close. “Wedge…” he says, in a low voice which suggests a warning.

Wedge appreciates the heads up, but he knows that Luke is close – it’s in the way his posture has changed, how his hands have curled tight and steady in Wedge’s hair, the way his cock pulses heavy in Wedge’s mouth. And sure enough, it isn’t long before Luke gives out an almighty whine, and Wedge can taste the bitter seed of Luke’s semen on his tongue.

Wedge swallows it down, giving Luke a moment to calm down before pulling away. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then brushes that off against his flightsuit. He looks up at Luke beneath half-lidded eyes, smirking as he does so. “How about that, flyboy?”

Luke drags Wedge up into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fucking get up here so I can return the favour, Antilles.” Luke’s hands are roaming everywhere, grasping at Wedge’s dick beneath the layers of his pants and his flightsuit, and Wedge can admit that he’s painfully hard and that he needs Luke’s hands or Luke’s mouth on his dick _yesterday_.

Wedge opens the collar of his flightsuit, pulls his flak vest over his head – why are there so many parts, why is life so _frustrating_ , he wants to be wearing less so Luke can _touch_ him, dammit – kneels down to pull his boots off, unfastening his flightsuit and slowly pulls himself out of it.

That leaves him in a vest and his shorts, and Luke’s eyes are roaming over him, admiring the planes of skin he can see. Wedge pulls his vest over his head, tossing it aside. He takes a step back, legs hitting one of the bunks, and lets himself fall seated onto it. He parts his thighs and leans back, plastering the widest smile on his face. “I’m waiting.”

Luke suddenly realises that he’s still tangled up in his own flightsuit, and hastens to undo his boots so he can get the whole blasted thing off. Wedge laughs loud at the sight, even as Luke protests – “You bastard, how’d you make it look so easy, I’m going to get you back.”

When Luke settles, naked, on Wedge’s lap, his hand down Wedge’s pants as he kisses Wedge fiercely, Wedge stops laughing. Astonishingly quickly, his breath going high and fast. “Not so cocky now, Antilles, are you?” Luke says with a grin.

“I don’t know, I think it’s still fairly impressive.” Wedge manages a wide smirk, and that’s it – Luke is definitely not trying hard enough. He clambers off Wedge’s lap, pushes him down onto the bed, and strips his underwear off, tossing them aside.

“You’re awful,” Luke says, crawling up Wedge’s body to give him a open-mouthed, messy kiss. His hands skim Wedge’s sides, feeling firm muscle and a trim waist. Luke presses a kiss to the underside of Wedge’s jaw, then drags his mouth down Wedge’s chest. He laps up a drop of precum at the head of Wedge’s cock, before swallowing Wedge down.

A satisfying whine comes out of Wedge’s throat, and Luke is sure his head is thrown back. His hands have come up to stroke at Luke’s hair, tangling it between his fingers. “And you are _very_ good at that, so please keep going.”

Luke thinks that he has several things he _could_ say to that, but the best thing he can do is to prove how very right Wedge’s statement is. So he continues to suck Wedge down, until Wedge’s breath goes very high and tight, and his fingers start scrabbling with no real sense or reason.

“I’m—” Luke takes Wedge in even deeper, feeling Wedge’s cock hit the back of his throat, and feels Wedge come as he lets out a high whine. Wedge pushes Luke off as he flops onto the bed, boneless and sated.

“That good for you?” Luke asks, placing a kiss to Wedge’s sweaty shoulder.

It takes a moment for Wedge to find the words. He leans over and kisses Luke, soft and gentle, all of the earlier desperation gone. “Do you really need to ask?” He lifts an eyebrow.

“Considering that you’re a floppy, sated, mess? I guess not.” Luke snuggles in closer for another minute or so, enjoying the afterglow, before pulling away. “I’m going to stick enough on to be decent to go down to the Refreshers, you’re welcome to join me if you want.”

“You could always not be decent, I can testify that the view’s great.”

Luke tosses Wedge’s underwear at his head. “I’d prefer not to expose it to the _entire_ rebellion, thank you very much, dickhead.”

Wedge chuckles. “Hey, what would you do without me? You aren’t likely to find another XO who will do all you paperwork and suck your dick.”

“No, but I think I’d have more problems finding someone to do the paperwork, Antilles.” Luke pulls his vest back over his head and then manages to steal a cheeky kiss from Wedge. “Come on, get your ass moving, we have things to do.”

.

“Are you alright?” Wedge asks one evening, sitting in the communal area of the shared suite of rooms Luke and Leia have claimed – there are separate bedrooms and it’s _not like that_ but anyone can see that they’re unwilling to be apart, even more so than before. Whatever happened on Bespin shook them both. But Leia is off on a mission with Mon, and she’d left that morning with a touch to Wedge’s arm and a plea of ‘you’ll look after him, won’t you?’ and therefore it falls to Wedge to sit with him, and ensure that Luke doesn’t get too wound up in his own head.

Luke is distracted, absent mindedly reading over a report. His fingers skim the surface of the table in front of him, drumming on the edge. “Hmmm?” He isn’t paying one iota of attention to Wedge. “I’m fine,” he says, a moment later, shrugging off the intensity of Wedge’s gaze; Wedge doesn’t believe a jot of it.

“You might have everyone else believing that rubbish, but you’ll have to get up earlier to fool me.” Who does Luke think he’s fooling? The man in front of him isn’t the same one that Wedge knew on Hoth. Gone is the cheerful, happy-go-lucky man, focused and devoted; in his place is a conflicted, darker man, who has taken the concerns of the Galaxy onto his shoulders. Something’s unsettled him, deeper than losing his hand, or losing Han.

Wedge leans over, entreating Luke to tell him. “Come on. What happened to you out there?”

Luke looks up at Wedge beneath dark lashes, hesitant. He bites at his lip. “I… I can't tell you,” he shudders out, turning away.

“Okay.” That doesn’t bother Wedge; Luke has other people to keep his confidences. “Have you told someone? Leia? Anyone?”

Luke shakes his head. “She wouldn’t understand. No one’s going to understand.”

Wedge bites back a response of _‘try me.’_ There’s something about the set of Luke’s jaw that makes him question whether he would; the secret Luke’s hiding may well be beyond Wedge’s comprehension. “But you’ll admit that maybe, you aren’t as alright as you’re pretending to be?”

Luke curls his fingers. His eyes lie closed, and Wedge wonders if he’s pushed too far. Then Luke gives a short nod. He opens his eyes. “Yeah. That would be a fair assessment.”

Wedge breathes out a sigh of relief, and smiles softly. “Well, that’s a start.”

Luke scoffs. There’s a trace of a smile on his face; the first sign Wedge has seen of the man he knew. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Wedge laughs. He’s still none the wiser but some of the tension between them has vanished, and Wedge has always been a man who will take whatever he can get.

“Come here.” Luke beckons Wedge over with a wave of his hand, and Wedge slides over the sofa, until he’s sitting flush alongside Luke. Luke hooks his legs over Wedge’s thighs, and wraps one of his arms around Wedge’s shoulders. “You don’t mind? Not knowing?”

“Luke—” Luke is warm and heavy atop Wedge’s lap, a reassuring presence that helps assuage Wedge’s fears. “I trust that you’ll tell me – or someone else – when you’re ready. All I want is for you to be well, and you clearly weren’t, because there was something— you’ve admitted that much. That there is something on your mind. That’s all I need to know.”

A hand moves to cup Wedge’s jaw, and then there are warm lips covering Wedge’s. Wedge opens his mouth in a soft gasp, and Luke licks straight into it, running his tongue across the roof of Wedge’s mouth.

Wedge mewls in response, tugging at the edge of Luke’s jacket, trying to pull the other man further into his lap. Luke shifts his weight a little, leaning forward, and he’s there, on top of Wedge. Wedge circles his arms around Luke’s back, as Luke threads his hands through Wedge’s hair, gently tugging the strands at the back of Wedge’s neck.

Wedge is the one who pulls away first, breaking the kiss more for air than anything else. He’s barely had a chance to draw breath when Luke’s mouth is back on his. Luke knows exactly how Wedge likes to be kissed, and any protest Wedge might have dies in his throat as Luke scrapes his teeth over Wedge’s bottom lip. The hand at the back of Wedge’s neck tightens, holding him in place.

Despite Luke’s general unsettledness, there’s nothing desperate here. There’s no fierceness behind the way he’s kissing, just a gentleness and a want that Wedge can respond to. It’s not like Luke is difficult to kiss. This isn’t a hardship, even if it isn’t exactly where Wedge saw his evening going.

Luke’s kisses turn languid, soft – long slow presses of his mouth against Wedge’s, parting to change the angle every so often. When he pulls away, breathing hard, Wedge leans in to press a kiss against Luke’s jaw.

Luke arches his neck, and Wedge presses in further, trailing his mouth down towards Luke’s collarbone, and settling just above it, mouthing at the hollow of Luke’s neck. Luke’s breath turns fast and whiny, and his hands fist in Wedge’s hair, pulling strands tight. “Wedge—” he breathes, voice already ragged and unfocused.

“You started it,” Wedge replies with a chuckle, leaning up so he can kiss Luke again.

Luke’s smiles into the kiss, mouth turning into a smirk. “You don’t mind?”

“When have I ever objected to kissing you?” Now it’s Wedge chasing Luke’s mouth, biting at Luke's lower lip, attempting to draw him in.

Luke is better at pulling back, though – has space to pull back into. Wedge forces himself to breathe deep a moment, before opening his eyes to focus on Luke. He’s getting carried away, he realises, distracted by Luke, by the slow curl of arousal that’s low in the belly, thinking more about what he wants than what Luke needs.

He studies Luke’s face. Luke’s brows are furrowed, in something that isn’t confusion but _worry_ , a rare expression on Luke’s face. He’s biting his lip, uncertain of something – which isn't fair because Luke’s lips are flushed a deep pink and are as enticing as anything Wedge has ever seen right now. “Wedge—” he says, and it’s completely different to the way he said it earlier. No longer a moan, but a statement, an inflection in it that is questioning and speaks of everything that Luke still doesn’t know how to put into words.

“Whatever it is,” Wedge says, “can we assume that I won’t have a problem with it and move past it?”

He wants to kiss Luke again, take the worry clean off his face. Wedge would to anything to protect the people he cares about. But Wedge doesn’t, because Luke’s mouth is still furrowed into a frown. Wedge uncircles his arms from Luke’s back, curling his hands round Luke’s arms instead, thumbs hooked into the crook of Luke’s elbows.

“I put Han and Leia in danger,” Luke says suddenly. “It was a trap set for me and I walked straight into it, because I cared about them and the Empire used it against me. Vader used it against me. Yoda – my teacher – he told me not to go, that to be attached was a weakness. I didn’t listen.”

“And now you’re wondering if this is just another thing you’re doing wrong?”

Luke nods, once. He’s still looking at Wedge through half-lidded eyes, his entire frame vulnerable.

Wedge leans up and places a solid kiss to Luke’s lips, because they both need the reassurance of that touch right now. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re plenty attached enough, regardless of… _this_ ,” Wedge opts to say, because he and Luke have never put a word on what’s between them. “You and I both know that sex doesn’t have much to do with attachments. And maybe I’m being presumptuous, but I’d like to think you care about me regardless of that fact that I’ve occasionally shared your bed. If you aren’t interested anymore, that’s fine, but… I’m here for you, if you want me.”

“You’re far too good to me,” Luke says, and Wedge swallows a scoff, because he isn't – he only treats Luke the way he should be treated, the way he deserves.

Luke shifts, pulling his weight off Wedge – and that’s _that_ , Wedge thinks, he’ll end up in his quarters alone that evening jacking off into his hand, because he can’t face finding someone else to blow off the ache that’s built in his chest and lower – and then Luke settles back down, one leg pulled over, so he’s now sitting astride Wedge, effectively straddling him.

“Oh—” Wedge’s exhalation is swallowed by Luke’s mouth on his, fiercer than before. Wedge’s hands go back up, one securing itself on Luke’s waist, the other grasping at Luke’s ass and pulling him in closer, because apparently Luke’s reconsidered this and has decided that this is okay.

 _Very_ okay with him, if the hard line of Luke’s dick that Wedge can feel is any indication. Wedge bucks his hips up into Luke, because he’s hard too, and the weight of Luke on top of him is doing nothing to counteract that.

Luke’s hands are on the collar of Wedge’s jacket, pulling at the closure at the top until Luke’s got it open. Luke pushes it open, running his hands under it along Wedge’s shoulders, and Wedge suppresses a moan low in his throat. It’s been a while, since… since he had Luke, or _anyone_. Their relationship has never been exclusive, but Wedge ended up there by accident anyway. He hasn’t had the time – or the inclination – to seek anyone out while Luke’s been away.

Luke bites down hard at the edge of Wedge’s collarbone, and Wedge shudders. He runs his hands along the edge of Luke’s trousers, pulling Luke’s shirt loose and revealing warm skin beneath it. He dips his hand in, pulling Luke closer again, as Luke shoves Wedge’s jacket off his shoulders.

“Luke—” Wedge manages to say, still busy trying to work out if there’s a way he can get into Luke’s trousers easily from this angle, as Luke continues to press against him, mouth intently working at the revealed skin of Wedge’s chest.

“Hmmm?”

Wedge takes his hands out of Luke’s trousers, favouring a steadier hold on the man’s back. There’s no way he’s getting into them, and while Luke feels _incredible_ pressed against him, grinding slowly as he presses kisses into the juncture of Wedge’s neck, Wedge knows just how much better it could feel. “Bed?”

That gets Luke’s attention. He sits back, face flushed. “I guess Leia would probably prefer it if we didn’t have sex on the sofas.”

Well, yes, Wedge doesn’t exactly want to explain that one. “Yes, and I could actually get your trousers off and fuck you properly.”

That, apparently, is the exact right thing to say. Luke is off Wedge’s lap in an instant, but is then dragging the other man up by his belt loops, and Wedge fists his hands in Luke’s shirt to keep himself steady. They end up kissing sloppily as Luke tugs Wedge towards the bedroom.

Once they’re in, the door shut, Wedge gets back to work trying to undo Luke’s trousers, wanting to get his hands inside. He fumbles with the belt, managing to loosen it enough so he thinks he can pull Luke’s trousers down, just as Luke decides to try and push Wedge’s jacket fully off him.

They end up in a right tangle, and both end up laughing. “Just strip, I’ll find everything,” Luke says, pulling his trousers off as he hops across the room to the footlocker at the other end of the bed.

Wedge whistles, low and appreciative as he pulls his arms out of his jacket and unbuckles his own belt. His trousers are fairly tight at this point, which doesn’t exactly help. He shucks his shirt too, and then steps over to embrace Luke from behind, nipping at Luke’s pulse point.

Wedge brings his left hand down and slides it into Luke’s boxers, grabbing Luke’s dick in a rough hold and giving it a couple of quick, loose strokes – intended to tease more than anything else. Luke stiffens, and leans back against Wedge, reaching a hand back round to clutch at Wedge’s thigh, dragging the other man closer. “Whatever happened to _properly?_ ” Luke hisses, brushing his ass against Wedge’s groin, vibrating with impatience.

“Whatever happened to foreplay?” Wedge says back. He presses a hot, damp kiss against the side of Luke’s neck, and grasps hold of Luke’s dick, brushing his thumb over the head. Luke arches back into Wedge, stifling a gasp.

“When have we ever had time for foreplay?” But Luke’s voice is shaky in pleasure, his breath already a little fast, so Wedge continues teasing, lathing his tongue over Luke’s pulse point and setting up a steady rhythm up and down on Luke’s cock.

“Doesn’t mean we should miss out now,” Wedge says, voice low. He places one last biting kiss to Luke’s collarbone, then backs off. Luke whines in disappointment, but Wedge pulls his own underwear down, sits on the bed, and nods at the supplies Luke has got out. “How’d you wanna do this? Also, off with the shirt, come on Luke, you’re making a man feel underdressed.”

Luke strips off his shirt, and Wedge rakes his eyes across firm muscle. Luke has always been in good shape, but whatever he was up to in his time away has not _hurt_ in any way shape or form. “Well, I think you promised to fuck me?” he says, with a smirk.

“Yes, but I’m not _set_ on it as an idea if you want to do something else?”

Luke considers for a moment. He gives Wedge an extremely thorough once-over, eyes lingering on Wedge’s hard cock, curved up and lightly touching his belly. “We could always switch it round, I’m not fussed.” He catches Wedge’s intake of breath, fast and harsh. “Do you want to to fuck you?”

Wedge’s eyes darken, interest that is readily apparent. “I really don’t mind, but can we pick _something._ ” His cock jerks, and Luke can see a small shine of precum left against his belly.

“Now who’s impatient?” Luke teases. He pulls his own underwear down, leaving him as naked as Wedge, and goes to grab the lube. He pushes Wedge back onto the bed one-handed, and hooks a leg over Wedge’s thigh. Wedge drags Luke down into a messy kiss, grabbing at Luke’s hips and pulling him fully onto the bed. Their cocks brush and Wedge can’t help but moan as he ruts against Luke. “Oh, yep.” Luke chuckles. “You’re definitely winning the award for impatience here.”

“Luke—” Wedge groans, as Luke shifts his weight onto his knees, pulling away. Wedge reaches down and grasps at the base of his cock, trying to steady himself.

“Hands and knees, and I’ll fuck you,” Luke offers.

Wedge scrambles, turning himself over with an eagerness he’s pretty sure that Luke is laughing at. But then there’s a cool slick finger pressing at Wedge’s entrance, and Wedge braces himself on his arms, as Luke slowly preps him. Discomfort soon gives way to pleasure, as Luke stretches him and gets deep enough inside to hit that sweet spot, the one that always reduces Wedge to a writhing mess.

“I’m ready,” Wedge declares, as Luke pumps three fingers in and out of him. “Luke, please—”

Luke withdraws, and hums with consideration. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Luke, get over here, fuck me—” Wedge shuts up as he feels the blunt head of Luke’s cock press up against his entrance. Luke presses in slowly, holding Wedge’s hips steady so that can’t thrust back against Luke until Luke is ready, and Wedge sucks in a breath as he gets accustomed to the feeling of Luke inside him, stretching him out.

He whines as Luke bottoms out, all the way in, and continues as Luke slowly withdraws and thrusts back in. “Luke—” Wedge pleads, anxious for more. “Come on—”

Luke is precise. He takes his time, not letting the heat take over him, and he’s careful as he thrusts into Wedge. He keeps himself steady, knees bracketing Wedge’s legs, hands on Wedge’s hips.

Luke slowly begins to thrust faster, harder, into Wedge. Wedge whines as Luke slips out of him, impatient and needy for more, but then Luke’s voice is at his ear, desperate and low. “Turn over, please, I need to see you.” Wedge, always happy to oblige, does so, and Luke pushes back in as Wedge hooks his legs around Luke’s back, holding him close.

Luke reaches up to kiss him, desperate and slick. He grasps for Wedge’s hands, entwining Wedge’s fingers with his own, keeping the contact close between them. Luke’s thrusts are coming quicker now, shallower, and Wedge is sure that he’s close, his hands tightening around Wedge’s in a vice-grip as his kisses grow less refined, more pressure of his mouth than anything else.

Wedge feels Luke come, Luke’s semen emptying into him. Luke collapses for a moment, weak, and Wedge lets him quake his way through his orgasm. Luke slides out of him, cock softening, and Wedge feels a little empty, but Luke is in no fit shape for round two.

Wedge grasps his cock in a rough hold, intent on getting himself off quickly. “Oi, wait,” Luke says, hand grasping for Wedge’s cock in an uncoordinated matter. “Let me.”

“Luke, it’s fine, don’t worry.”

“No, it’s not, let me, please?” Luke’s voice is pleading, so Wedge acquiesces, moving his hand so Luke’s can take its place. Either way, it’s not long before Wedge is coming, curling into Luke’s grasp with a soft choked moan.

Wedge keeps his eyes closed, taking deep breaths as he slowly comes back to himself. He leans back into Luke, into the warm comfort of the hold. Dimly, he thinks that there was something more to Luke’s concern then, his eagerness to give and ensure Wedge’s pleasure.

But Luke isn’t alright. He’s admitted that much. And Wedge isn’t sure what’s the matter – and has made it clear that it _doesn_ _’t_ matter – so… he leaves it. He rolls over into Luke’s arms, curling up on the other man’s chest, and places a soft kiss below Luke’s collarbone. He’s here for Luke, in any way Luke needs, and Wedge hopes that will be enough.

.

Luke’s almost offended when Wedge offers a hand to shake, and pulls him into a hug instead. Wedge ducks the moment it almost turns into a kiss, but Luke isn’t going to argue with that. He’s just too relieved that Wedge survived yet another battle where the odds were against him. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he whispers in Wedge’s ear, and Wedge nods against his shoulder, before Luke lets go and moves on to greeting Lando, leaving Wedge in Chewie’s company.

It’s several hours later when Luke manages to slip away from everything. He finds Wedge lurking on the edge of the festivities, looking casual and comfortable leaning against a tree. He’s calmed down since earlier, coming off the adrenaline high. “We going to get out of here, then, Skywalker?”

Wedge lifts an eyebrow and his mouth is quirked into a smirk and Luke is full of soft affection for this man who’s been by his side throughout the entire war.

He also recognises it for the invitation it is. “I’m game if you are,” he replies, sliding into step beside Wedge. They wander across one of the bridges, spiralling down in circles around one of the trees, to find a clearing far enough away that they won’t be disturbed.

Luke settles, leaning against a tree, while Wedge stands in the centre of the clearing, just looking up at the sky, and the stars that have emerged out. Luke reckons he’s probably trying to find Corel, Corellia’s shining core star, to centre him back on the ground. “You survived,” Luke says, a comment and a reminder rolled into one.

Wedge turns back round to look at him. He considers Luke for a moment, one eyebrow raised, but then his face softens into an affectionate smile. “Yeah, I did.” His eyes sparkle under the dim light of far off fires. “And so did you. And we beat the thing. That’s all I could ever hope for.”

“No grand hopes for the future?”

Wedge’s gaze narrows, his mouth pursing into a thin line. “You know as well as I do that I never expected to see the end of the war.”

“And now that you have?”

“The war’s not over yet. Maybe we took down their greatest weapon, and you stopped both the Emperor and Darth Vader—” Wedge stops, observing Luke’s face twitch.

“I’ll tell you later,” Luke says, stepping forward into Wedge’s space.

“About what happened to you up there?”

“That, and everything—” Luke looks full. He ducks his head and looks away for a minute, a bashful smile on his face. “There’s a lot of stuff I have to tell you. About everything.” He brings his gaze back up to Wedge’s, and his smile is wide and dazzling, and he looks – _happy,_ for the first time in months.

It’s a good look on him.

Wedge finds that Luke’s hands are suddenly on his waist, tugging at his belt to pull him in closer. “So, you’ll tell me later?” he asks. “Or you could always tell me now.” His voice is teasing.

“I can think of other things I’d rather be doing now,” Luke says. A hand on Wedge’s back pulls him in even tighter, chest-to-chest with Luke, and Wedge raises an arm to cup the back of Luke’s neck and pull him in for an easy kiss.

It feels right to do this. They slept together for the first time after that fall of the first Death Star – it’s only fitting that they come back together for the fall of the second.

Wedge walks Luke back until he hits the tree he was leaning against earlier. Luke hits it with a soft thud, legs parting so that Wedge can step between them. Wedge angles his head down, deepening the kiss, tangling fingers in the soft ends of Luke’s hair, as he sucks Luke’s bottom lip into his mouth.

Luke’s hands grapple with Wedge’s flightsuit, hands skimming underneath the flak vest, pulling Wedge tighter and tighter in as his fingers press against the surface of the fabric. His cock, half hard, brushes against a growing bulge in Wedge’s trousers, and Luke gasps. “Wedge—”

“We’ll get there,” Wedge breathes, nipping at Luke’s mouth, running his left hand across Luke’s shoulder while his right tightens around Luke’s waist. “Force, you’re alive. We’re alive. Let's just focus on that.”

Wedge feels _very_ alive, pressed against Luke. Luke manages to unclip the fastenings that secure the life box on Wedge’s chest, that is pressing uncomfortably into Luke. He pulls it off, tossing it gently aside, as Wedge presses a kiss to Luke’s jawline, then to the side of his neck, wet, open-mouthed affairs that make Luke shudder with delight.

Wedge manages to tug the front of Luke’s shirt open, which exposes the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and places a biting kiss there. “You’re alive. you’re _alive_ , Luke, do you know how concerned I was?”

Luke tangles his hands into Wedge’s hair, as Wedge drags his mouth over Luke’s collarbone and then the front fabric of Luke’s jacket. “You were concerned? Wedge, they made me watch the battle rage. I saw starfighters go up in smoke and every time I desperately hoped that it wasn’t you, that I’d feel if you died—”

“At least you could see.” Wedge has dropped to his knees and is nosing at the front of Luke’s trousers, brushing against Luke’s hard, confined cock. ‘I had no idea what was going on with you, at all, I just had to hope—” His hand unfastens the waistband of Luke’s trousers, and he pulls them open and aside, and then tugs down Luke’s pants, exposing Luke’s cock. It bobs slowly, already at almost full hardness. “That you were okay, even though I had the worst feeling that you might not be.” Wedge gives Luke’s cock a few strokes, then wraps his lips around the head of it.

Luke gasps, thrusting towards the hot wet warmth that has enveloped his cock. His hands are still tangled in Wedge’s hair, and he manages to restrain himself from pulling Wedge any closer. He takes a deep steadying breath, and slowly eases his cock into Wedge’s mouth. Wedge swallows him down, lathing his tongue along the underside of Luke’s cock.

This feels _incredibly_ good, Luke throwing his head back as Wedge bobs his head up and down. His hands tighten in Wedge’s hair, scratching across Wedge’s scalp. Wedge moans, the vibration reverberating in his mouth, sending a pleasant shudder up Luke’s spine.

When Luke comes, he does so with a high whining moan. Wedge laps up the semen, then pulls of Luke’s cock with a soft plop. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, then pulls Luke’s underwear back up, tidying him up a little. “I’m okay, Wedge, I’m okay, I promise you,” Luke says, tugging Wedge up by the straps of his flak vest, into a messy kiss, Luke able to taste himself still on Wedge’s tongue. Luke manages to slide his hands under the front of Wedge’s flak vest, then breaks the kiss to shove it up and over Wedge’s head. From there, Luke manages to flip open the collar of the suit, undo the fastenings, the unzip the zipper, which means he can get into Wedge’s pants.

He slips his hand into Wedge’s underwear, grasping roughly at Wedge’s cock, and it’s Wedge’s turn to openly gasp in response. Wedge is still crowding Luke against the tree, his hands braced against the bark. He ducks his head, resting it against Luke’s shoulder, occasionally nipping at Luke’s shoulder, but mostly Luke can just feel Wedge’s breath coming in harsh pants as Luke strokes him. Hard, fast, and with a twist to his hand as he reaches the head of Wedge’s cock – just the way Wedge likes it.

Wedge was already keyed up, so it doesn’t take long for Luke to reduce him to a withering mess, on the edge. “Please, Luke, I’m—” He stifles a groan by biting it into Luke’s collarbone.

“I’ve got you, Wedge,” Luke mutters, speeding his hand up just a little to pull Wedge over. Wedge comes quietly in the end, falling limp against Luke, spurting over Luke’s hand.

That’ll be a fun mess to clean up.

When Wedge comes back to himself, he steps back a little, just enough so that he can look at Luke. Luke offers Wedge his hand, and Wedge laps the cum off it. It’s weird, Luke thinks, but feeling Wedge’s tongue lick slowly along the palm of his hand feels strangely more intimate than anything they’ve done already that night. Wedge does a pretty good job of cleaning up his own mess, and tucks himself back into his underwear, shrugging enough of his flightsuit back on to not look completely debauched.

By some mutual agreement, they both sink to the floor, sitting side by side, against the tree. Luke’s arm ends up around Wedge’s waist, and Wedge’s ends up on Luke’s shoulder. “We made it,” Luke says, voice soft. “I know you can barely believe it, but we made it. We’ve got the rest of our lives ahead of us.”

Both of them have a similar thought on their minds; how much the other was going to end up playing into it. Because this had been the easiest thing in the world, and yet still – it was just sex between good friends. Supposedly. It sure felt like more than that some days, but that didn't mean it was.

Luke contemplates asking. But he already knows that there are a whole wealth of secrets he has to tell Wedge before he could even begin to expect Wedge to have an honest relationship with him, so he stays quiet. Wedge thinks that no matter the adoration welling up in his chest for his friend Luke, flyboy – Luke is not that anymore. He is the last of the Jedi, and so…

They sit there in the quiet, Wedge’s head leaning against Luke’s shoulder, and just let themselves have that moment.

.

Wedge finds Luke preparing to leave.

Luke is so engrossed in what he’s doing – carefully folding items of clothing into a duffle bag, while a pile of Jedi relics sits on the table in front of him – that he doesn’t notice Wedge enter. Wedge settles against the doorframe, arms folded, watching Luke out of narrowed eyes.

Eventually, the hairs on the back of Luke’s neck prick up, and a hand goes to his waist reaching for his lightsaber. A foot steps out in a defensive stance.

“Luke, it’s just me,” Wedge says softly.

Luke’s entire posture relaxes. He still doesn’t turn around to look at Wedge. Just places his hands on the table and lowers his head. “Why are you here?”

“You aren't the only one planning a disappearing act.” Luke finally turns his head, just slightly, so Wedge can see a little of his face. His eyes are drawn and tired, and he hasn’t shaved in about two weeks. His brows are furrowed with concern. “Ezra’s going into hiding as well, you know that. Sabine told me. Said I better find you, before you did something stupid. So here I am.”

Luke pushes the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I think that ship has long since sailed.”

“You may have made some mistakes, but this _isn_ _’t_ your fault.”

“Forty children are dead. _Children_ , Wedge. Sixty-one dead students who may have technically been past their age of majority, thirteen members of my staff who were only going about their business. And the First Order now has eleven promising students, including my own _nephew._ Explain to me how I’m not responsible?”

Luke’s fists are clenched – even the skeletal metal one, a temporary replacement for the full prosthetic that was destroyed in the mayhem of the massacre. “Did you cut any of those children down with a lightsaber? Did you personally ask Ben to kill them? Did you burn that school you worked so hard to build down to the ground yourself?”

Wedge can see a response forming on Luke’s lips. It appears to be a complicated one. So Wedge steps forward, crowding into Luke’s space, forcing him to look him in the eye. He grabs Luke’s wrists – warm flesh in one hand and cool metal in the other – and says, as firmly as he can manage. “I _know_ you didn’t. Ben and the other students who perpetrated this were adults. Their choices were their own. This is _not_ your fault.”

Wedge wonders how many times he’ll have to say it for it to sink in.

Luke’s eyes are bright and blue, wide under Wedge’s intense stare. Wedge needs Luke to believe him here. He can’t go about bearing the weight of this disaster on his shoulders. They stand there, locked to each other, until Luke inclines his head and leans up and claims Wedge’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss.

In his surprise, Wedge drops his grip on Luke’s wrists, and Luke’s hands go up, clutching at the back of Wedge’s shirt underneath his jacket, pulling him in closer. It’s like they’ve never been apart. Despite all the years between them, years when neither of them have been sure of exactly where they stand. But, hell, Wedge isn’t seeing anyone at the moment, so he lets himself fall into this familiarity. He settles his hands, stabilising and gentle, on Luke’s forearms.

“They were there because of _me,_ ” Luke says, voice full of distress. “I put each of them in the line of fire. I should have stopped Ben. It is _because_ of my failings that they are dead.”

Wedge has been in this headspace before. Missions where he’d lost pilots, bore the weight of each death personally around his neck. Luke’s talked him out of it many times. Wedge has talked a lot of other pilots out of it.

But he’s _never_ had to talk Luke out of it.

“You know that I know that that’s bullshit, Luke, so don’t try it on me.” Wedge finds his eyes drawn to Luke’s mouth, flushed a pretty pink, and red where he’s been biting down on his bottom lip. “You did all you could.”

“And if that’s not enough, what do I then?”

Wedge feels like tearing his hair out. He settles for tightening his grip on Luke’s arms. “Fucking try. No one has any right to demand any more of you than what you can do. You can’t work miracles. I know you; you’re already three steps into a plan to put as much of this back to rights as you can. You’ll do better at fixing things if you aren’t drowning in grief.”

Luke’s face is dark, close to breaking again, and Wedge leans up to cup Luke’s face and draw him into a soft, sweet kiss. Kissing Luke is so easy, in a way it _never_ is with anyone else. There’s a reason they’ve never managed to fully disengage from the other’s orbit. Luke’s hands tighten in the back of Wedge’s shirt, pulling him in. He opens his mouth, running his tongue along the seam of Wedge’s mouth, hoping to coax it open. The kiss turns fierce, deep and intimate, Luke’s mouth hot beneath Wedge’s, his tongue flicking across the roof of Wedge’s mouth.

A low moan comes out of Luke, and his hands twist at the back of Wedge’s shirt, pulling it up and out of Wedge’s trousers. Wedge’s hand goes to Luke’s wrist again, halting him. “Hey. Luke—” This is the _last_ thing Luke needs right now; one more distraction from the task at hand. Wedge came here to talk him out of something stupid, not participate in it.

Luke’s eyes are blown wide, more dark in them then blue. He’s looking at Wedge and radiating desire. “I want you,” he says, bringing his hips flush against Wedge’s. “Please, Wedge, just…” He leans up and captures Wedge’s mouth in a kiss. “This is one of the few good things left in my life.”

That catches Wedge by surprise; he wasn’t even sure that what was between him and Luke was concrete enough to be regarded as anything. “Luke, there’s so much else—”

“Please, Wedge?” Luke’s voice is _pleading_ , as he nuzzles against Wedge’s neck, pressing light kisses and grazing his teeth over delicate skin. Wedge shudders, and thinks how _desperately_ unfair it is, that he should have Luke Skywalker in his arms, and to know the right thing to do would be to try and snap Luke out of this downwards spiral he seems to have himself locked in, and that indulging Luke in this will not do it.

On the other hand, Wedge is painfully aware that he’s _never_ really stopped wanting Luke. It’s not in him to deny Luke this.

Running his hands along Luke’s waist, and pushing back against Luke’s hips, Wedge positions his lips against Luke’s ear and whispers; “Let’s go to bed then.” His breath is hot and harsh against Luke, and Luke gives a full-body shudder in response, bucking into Wedge.

Luke drags his mouth along Wedge’s jaw. “You sure you don’t want me on my knees right here?”

A sharp wave of heat thuds in Wedge’s groin, tension pooling low in his stomach. Luke gives a satisfied hum; he can feel Wedge growing hard against him, the _menace_. But as nice as that sounds, that’s not how Wedge wants to play this. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it _my_ way.” Wedge strokes a hand through Luke’s soft hair. “You’re going to listen to every word I say, okay?”

Luke takes a step back. His pupils are blown wide with desire, and he’s looking at Wedge with an ache in his heart.

Wedge takes a moment to breathe. This entire thing is overwhelming. He’s managed to wrest a bit of control back, but he’s still not sure that this is what Luke _needs._

Luke leads Wedge back, into the small bedroom at the back; starch white sheets, perfectly made, speak to the anonymity of Luke’s temporary lodgings. Never mind that. It doesn’t bother Wedge. He crowds Luke until the back of Luke’s knees hit the bed, forcing Luke to drop down onto it. Wedge pushes his way between Luke’s legs. With a hand to Luke’s chin, fingers stroking across Luke’s jaw, bristling against the short growth of Luke’s beard, Wedge tilts Luke’s head up, making Luke meet his eyes.

In blue eyes Wedge sees acceptance and trust and it makes his head spin.

Wedge pulls his jacket off his shoulders, tossing it at a chair in the corner. Luke nods appreciatively, his hands reaching out to stroke Wedge’s arms, still firm with muscle – just because Wedge spends half his life behind a desk these days doesn’t mean he’s dropped his gym sessions. He pulls his shirt over his head, then loosens his belt, removing his holster, and dropping his trousers.

He steps out of them, kicking them aside. His hand goes to the collar of Luke’s shirt, unfastening the clasp that keeps it closed. Pushing it open, he slides his hand across Luke’s chest. Luke’s metal hand comes up to clasp round Wedge’s wrist, keeping his hand in place. Wedge tuts. “My way, remember?”

Luke is too volatile, too overwhelmed and full up to do this, Wedge knows that. If he retains control, he’s got some hope of reigning it in before it gets out of control.

“Whatever you say, Wedge.” Luke’s eyes are a hazy blue, like the morning sky, soft and welcoming – but Wedge knows there’s a storm brewing. He drops his head and kisses Luke, soft as anything, hoping that he can quell part of the storm, bring Luke safe into harbour. Luke’s hands raise, the metal one cool against Wedge’s shoulder, the flesh one warm at the back of Wedge’s neck.

When Wedge breaks the kiss, he pulls Luke’s shirt over his head. He casts his eyes over Luke’s torso, full of fresh scars over old ones. Wedge reaches out to trace along the edge of a particularly nasty looking burn on Luke’s shoulder, and then splays his fingers out along the faint white lines of the scars left by the Force Lightning all those years ago.

“They don’t hurt,” Luke says. “They aren’t the worst thing that was done to me.”

Wedge _can_ _’t_ with Luke’s self-deprecation, so he kisses him again, covering his mouth and licking in, running his tongue along Luke’s, attempting to reassure. He fumbles Luke’s trousers open, shuffling them down as Luke shifts his weight just enough off the bed to allow Wedge to do that. Tossing those aside, Wedge pushes Luke back slightly and kneels between Luke’s legs, cupping both sides of his face with his hands.

Luke runs his hands over Wedge’s chest. With the metal one, he merely seeks touch, but the fingers on his flesh hand dance across Wedge’s skin, stroking and scratching and then pinching at Wedge’s nipple. Wedge focuses squarely on Luke’s mouth, hoping that he can dowse some of the fire that’s burning inside.

Luke breaks the kiss to drag his mouth along Wedge’s jaw, nipping behind his ear, and then sucking a bruise on the side of Wedge’s neck. Wedge pushes him away. “Luke—” he says, looking into eyes that are still impossibly blue.

“I know, I know.” Luke has the decency to look abashed at least. “Let you lead. I just—” He ducks his head. “I want you. I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you in months, and I—”

Wedge understands this particular storm. “I’ve missed you too,” he admits, voice soft, because he _has_ ; he _always_ does, when he’s away from Luke for long periods. He kisses Luke, chaste, for a moment. “Now, what exactly do you want, and do you have the supplies for it?”

“Fuck me,” Luke pleads. “There’s things in the bedside drawer. Please, Wedge, please, love—”

Wedge stifles a desperate gasp, in complete disbelief that the word _love_ has just come out of Luke’s mouth, and favours diving for the side drawer, where he finds some lube and condoms. He pulls them from the drawer, and tosses them onto the bed. He makes a rough grasp for Luke’s ass, pulling his underwear down, and then tugging Luke onto his lap. Luke’s cock is already hard and it juts pleasingly into Wedge’s stomach.

Wedge flips open the lube, liberally drizzling a decent amount onto his fingers. He forces Luke’s legs open a little wider, then proceeds to finger Luke open, until Luke is a writhing pleading mess. “Please, Wedge, please—” he moans in short gasps, hands all over Wedge, trying to tug him closer.

Wedge pulls three fingers out of Luke. “Okay, Luke, give me a moment.” He pushes Luke off again, so he can shuck his own underwear. He gives his cock a couple of quick strokes to ensure he’s fully hard, then reaches for a condom. That on, and a decent amount of lube applied, he pulls Luke back in to his lap.

He settles Luke there, and leans up for a kiss, tender and sweet. Luke obliges him, and Wedge wonders if this is what their life would be like, if they saw each other more that once a year and actually _had_ their shit together. Instead of just fits of desperation where it got too much for both of them. “Ready when you are,” Wedge breathes into Luke’s mouth.

Luke hoists himself up, putting his weight on his knees, and Wedge grips the base of his cock, pushing it into position, as Luke slowly lowers himself down. When Luke is full seated, Wedge holds him close, and tugs him in for a deep kiss, just enjoying the feel of Luke completely enveloping him.

Luke braces his calves alongside Wedge’s thighs, and slowly lifts himself up, before slamming back down. “You know,” he says, breath raspy and shallow, “this is hardly a position where you’re in control.”

“Luke, it was _never_ about control, it was about making sure you didn’t do something _stupid_.” Wedge grips Luke’s back tightly, blunt nails scratching lightly over his skin.

“I think you might be a little late on that,” Luke says, “but it’s nice that you care.”

“Of course I care—” Wedge bites back half the words that threaten to spill from his mouth. It’s difficult to know, in the heat of the moment, how much of it is even true, and how much is just desire making itself known. He thrusts up into Luke instead, making him buck and gasp, and Wedge swallows his cries in his throat, kissing him again, stopping himself from spilling any of the ridiculous emotions that are welling up in his chest.

Instead, he focuses on the tight heat of Luke around him, and the warmth of his mouth. Wedge manages to reach down between them to lightly stroke Luke’s cock, which makes Luke gasp and speed up, moving faster as he chases his release. Wedge is close too, desperately trying to stifle it until Luke has come.

Wedge feels Luke spill hot over his hand, and then clench tight around him. That pushes him over, gasping into Luke’s mouth. They hold each other close, both breathing deep.

It’s Luke who pulls off first, letting Wedge slip out of him. “I’m going to go and get a cloth,” he says, voice quiet. Wedge nods. He flops back on the bed, and sets to work disposing of the condom, and moving the sticky sheets out the way. When Luke returns, he looks a lot cleaner. He offers Wedge the damp cloth, and Wedge accepts it, cleaning himself up quickly, then tossing it aside and pulling Luke back onto the bed with him.

He holds Luke close, placing a kiss atop Luke’s hair. “When are you leaving?” he asks, remembering why he came here in the first place.

“As soon as I have everything together. Tonight.” Luke’s breath is warm against Wedge’s sternum. “I have to do this. We need more answers to fight Snoke, to beat the Knights of Ren. I have to go find them. Leia will hold the fight. She’ll keep the balance, until I find what I need.”

“And when will that be?”

Wedge isn’t sure how long the Republic will last against the First Order, a threat it’s barely capable of acknowledging. He’s not sure how long he’s capable of living without Luke, he’s realising, breathing the scent of Luke’s hair in. His ridiculous feelings, feelings of love, still haven't died away.

“A couple of years, at least. Maybe longer.”

Wedge tightens his grip on Luke.

“I can’t be here,” Luke says, attempting calmness, but his voice has a tremor in it he can’t quite hide from Wedge. “I’ll be a target for the Republic, for the First Order, I’ll be a distraction. I’ve got to go.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” The words slip from Wedge’s mouth. “Love,” he says, because Luke has already said it and Wedge feels the truth of it. “Luke, I want to stay. I lo—” Wedge is silenced by Luke pressing a finger to his lips.

“Don’t.” Luke’s voice is pleading. “I know, but if you say it I don’t know if I can walk away, and you _can_ _’t_ come with me. I’m sorry.”

Wedge octopuses his limbs around Luke, holding as tight as he can, and hoping that Luke really does know half of the ridiculous feelings that are welling up inside his chest.

They stay like that for longer than is perhaps wise, before Luke has to excuse himself to pack the last of his things. Wedge makes himself presentable again, while Luke pads around in nothing but his underwear, until his things have been whittled down to three packed bags. Then he dresses, in view of Wedge, who watches and tries to commit every inch of Luke’s skin to his memory.

Wedge kisses Luke goodbye, on the front step, before both of them go their separate ways.

It’s the last anyone sees of Luke Skywalker for seven years.

.

“Wedge?”

Wedge turns, from his conversation with a couple of the pilots and Resistance High Command, to the source of an anxious querying voice he recognises in a heartbeat. Sucking in a desperate breath, Wedge comes face to face with Luke Skywalker for the first time in eight years.

He’d _known_ that Luke was back, that he’d run into him eventually. He just hadn’t quite prepared himself for the reality of the man before him. A man who he said goodbye to in _extremely_ emotional circumstances, who he thinks – after over thirty years – he might have finally figured out how he feels about. He’s known of Luke’s return for months, but there’s never been a moment he could find to fit in a reunion.

Now it’s here. Wedge makes his excuses to his companions, and slips away to talk to his oldest friend. “Luke. Hey.” He keeps his voice low and steady, unsure of what to say. Does he mention everything that was almost said last time? Or keep things light, until they are back on solid ground?

“How are you?” Luke asks.

“Good,” Wedge replies, amazed at how true it actually is. He really is alright. “Busy, but good.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got room in your busy schedule for an old friend?”

Wedge catches a glimpse of the man he knew, in the sly hopeful smile that crosses Luke’s face. “For you, always.” Wedge is rewarded by Luke’s eyes brightening and his face cracking into a grin. Wedge shrugs. “I’ve concluded my business here, anyway. Don’t have much to do until I work out where I’m off to next. So you’ll be doing me a favour.”

“Dinner?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Wedge nods. “How’s the commissary food here?” Wedge only flew in this morning – the lunch he had was fine but that’s no indication that dinner will be acceptable.

“I’ve had worse,” Luke replies. He averts his eyes for a moment and Wedge could swear that a blush graces his cheeks. “We could grab something and head back to my quarters?”

That is – Wedge wasn’t expecting that. The mess hall is neutral ground for them to get reacquainted on; Luke’s quarters are… not. Wedge gives Luke a careful once over, trying to work out what his intentions are here.

“We don’t have to,” Luke adds, leaning over to touch Wedge’s wrist with his flesh-and-blood hand. The touch is reassuring and firm, warm against Wedge’s bare skin. Luke’s fingers graze over Wedge’s pulse, and Wedge can feel his heart start to race.

It’s been thirty-five bloody goddamn years since Wedge got a little drunk after the first Death Star battle and looked across at his co-pilot and found something attractive in the man sitting there, and eight years since he realised he was in love with Luke Skywalker, and he hasn’t fallen _out_ of love while Luke’s been away.

Wedge swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry. “No, Luke,” he says, stumbling over the words. “It’s okay. That sounds nice.” He pulls away from Luke’s grip on his wrist, catching Luke’s fingers in his palm, and; he’s holding Luke’s hand. Luke’s fingers curl in his, a small version of an embrace.

They walk hand in hand to the mess hall, shoulders brushing occasionally. They have to pull away as they collect trays to get food; Wedge observes as Luke is friendly and playful, almost flirty with the commissary staff. He’s relieved by what he sees. This is Luke, the same Luke he’s always known. Wedge is worried about nothing. Luke has to knock him on the shoulder, a friendly push that’s reminiscent of their much younger days, and raises his eyebrows. “You done there?”

Wedge looks down at a tray stocked with food, and then back at a smiling Luke. “Yeah, sorry, lost in thought for a moment.”

“You looked it.” Luke’s voice has a teasing note to it, a question of just what Wedge was thinking about forming on his lips, but he doesn’t voice it.

Wedge wants to _kiss_ him. Push him back against the counter and just _breathe_ him in. It’s hardly the thing to do in public, though.

They make their escape from the mess hall easily, without any of the distractions Wedge usually finds – none of the pilots stop him and catch him up in conversation. Maybe they can see that he and Luke are caught up in each other’s orbits. Wedge feels as vulnerable as he did on the first day after the Death Star, after Luke had crawled into his bed, where he swore that there was a neon sign above his head that screamed that he had fucked the hero of Yavin.

Dinner ends up being quiet. Luke has a set of chairs at the desk in his quarters, and it’s easy to sit in them and just eat, without worrying about anything else that they might have to say. Wedge keeps stealing glances, heart fluttering in his chest, which is ridiculous, because he’s far too old – and he and Luke have _far_ too much between them – for this to feel like a crush.

“How are you?” Luke asks, when he’s finished, pushing his tray away. Wedge is still spooning through the last few mouthfuls of pudding. “I mean really. How are you? What’s been happening in your life since I left?”

Wedge bites down on the last spoonful of pudding, licking the sweetness clean from the spoon as he considers what he’s going to say. “Not a lot,” he says, carefully setting the spoon down. “I’ve been with the New Republic Navy, trying to keep things shipshape and not let the First Order gain too much of a stranglehold, but goodness knows how successful at that I’ve been. I mostly train pilots and try and keep the peace, these days. It seems I’m the only person who everyone in power likes.” Wedge shrugs. He’s no diplomat; how he became the envoy of the Republic and the Resistance is beyond him. He’s still waiting for the inevitable moment where he finally loses his temper.

“You were always better at the politics thing than I was,” Luke says. “Though I know you hated it as much as I did. What about your personal life?”

“I have a cat?” Luke raises his eyebrows. “Well, shared custody of one. He’s with Norra at the moment. She’s taking care of the cat, I’m checking in on the son.”

Luke looks confused for a moment, then his eyes light with recognition. “Snap Wexley’s with the Resistance. Of course. So, you and Norra—”

Wedge shakes his head violently. “No. Nope, no way, that ship sailed a long time ago, we’re not together, don’t be silly. No, we’ve just come to an understanding. Nothing more than that.”

Luke looks relieved. “Anyone else?” he asks, but he has a look on his face that suggests he knows what the answer is.

“No one. I’m not with anyone, Luke.” The last time Wedge saw Luke, he almost told him he _loved_ him, and Luke had implied that he knew. That realisation that he’s been in love with Luke since – Wedge isn’t sure how long, but he’d wager it was a _very_ long time – made it pretty difficult to try anything with someone else.

Luke leans across, one hand on Wedge’s knee, the other round Wedge’s neck, and kisses him, soft and sweet. Wedge’s hand raises to the front of Luke’s shirt, catching in it. Luke still tastes of sunshine, a brightness that is Luke’s and Luke’s alone.

When they part, Luke leans his forehead against Wedge’s. Luke brings his left hand round to cup Wedge’s jaw, stroking his thumb tenderly across Wedge’s cheekbone. “I’ve missed you, Wedge,” he murmurs, then leans in for another kiss, this one angled deeper. Wedge’s head starts to spin, dizzy under Luke’s ministrations.

Wedge forces himself to pull away, breaking the kiss and out of Luke’s hold. He pulls his hands back, settling them on the side of the chair, and forces himself to look away from Luke’s face, which is tinged with the slightest hint of disappointment. It so _easy_ to get lost in kissing Luke, maybe _too_ easy. There are things he swore he’d say, when he saw Luke again, instead of going straight to the physical connection they’ve long shared.

“Wedge?” Luke’s voice is cautious.

Wedge lets himself look up, for a moment, to see concern written over Luke’s face. “I’ve missed you too,” Wedge says. “Force, Luke, I have. There’s been an ache in my chest ever since you left. And now you’re back… I don’t want to have to go another day without you,” he admits.

“I don’t either.”

“We’ve spent so much time skirting each other. I can’t do that anymore. I _can_ _’t_. It hurt too much to watch you leave, realising how stupid I’d been, how much time I’d wasted. I’ve—” The words catch in his throat. Wedge has never been good about talking about how he feels, but he has too, now, or he’ll never say it. “We've always relied on sex, you realise? Kept going back to it. I _can_ _’t_ do that anymore. I can’t keep it casual. If we are going to do this, than I want to do it properly. A relationship. Dating.”

Luke smiles. “Should I buy you flowers and take you out for dinner?”

“You could.” There’s a warmth rising in Wedge’s chest. “I’d like that, as silly as it sounds?”

“It’s not silly,” Luke says. He leans over to take Wedge’s hand, threading his fingers through Wedge’s. “I can’t promise to be any good at it. Hells, I might want to never go another day without you, but I can’t promise you that.”

“I know. I can’t promise it either.”

“But I can promise to think of you. Every day.” Luke’s cheek colour with a pretty blush. “I’ve been doing that for years, anyway.”

Wedge sucks in a breath, then pushes out of his chair to catch Luke in a kiss, fierce and just a little desperate. “We've been fools, you know that?”

“I know.” Luke kisses Wedge again, soft and chaste. “Stay with me. Stay. Come to bed. I don’t have anywhere I need to be, not for tonight, stay, please – just sleep beside me?”

Wedge nuzzles his face into Luke’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of him until it permeates his lungs. “Yeah. Okay. I think I can manage that.” Wedge pulls Luke to his feet, both of them leaning into each other. “Get your boots off, then.”

Luke leans down to unfasten them. “You’re a little bossy sometimes, you know that.”

“Luke, if I actually had any interest in being bossy, you’d have known it a _long_ time ago,” Wedge comments. He sits down on the edge of the bed to pull his boots off, and then removes his jacket and boots before swinging himself up onto the bed. “And maybe it wouldn’t have taken us well over thirty years to sort this out.”

“I didn’t say I minded,” Luke smiles. He sits on the bed, then scoots across so he’s lying alongside Wedge. He reaches out, brushing his hand along Wedge’s arm, a feather light touch that makes Wedge shiver. “It’s kinda nice at times.”

Eyebrows raised, Wedge gives Luke a pointed stare. Luke gives a half-hearted shrug back. “We are going to unpack that at some point, love,” Wedge says, pulling Luke close and tangling his arms around him.

“It’ll be an interesting conversation, at least.” Luke’s hand strokes up Wedge’s chest. Lying in Wedge’s arms, his head tucked into Wedge’s shoulder, it feels like _home_ in a way that nothing has felt in a very long time. “This is nice,” he murmurs, voice soft and sticky.

“It is,” Wedge agrees, whispering the words into Luke’s hair, one hand slowly carding through soft blonde-grey strands. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back.”


End file.
